by Ashley Nemer
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dominic left his hotel and pulled into the parking lot of Impact, noticing only two vehicles sitting out front. That was a good sign. He needed alone time for what he had planned with this new person. Exiting his car, he grabbed his black bag from the trunk and walked around to the back of the building. Finding the employee entrance shut, he jiggled the handle, locked. Setting his bag down he unzipped it. Reaching inside he fumbled though the items, moving past the rope and tape. He pulled out a leather pouch. Kneeling on the ground, he took the lock-picking set and started working on the door. Hearing the pins release inside, he turned the handle, and the door slowly opened. Putting his kit back in his bag, he picked up his things and stepped inside.
Softly shutting the door, he took a pair of gloves out of the bag and slid his hands into the tight fitting leather. He reached into his side pocket and pulled out his knife. Walking down the hallway into the back of the club, he slipped through the kitchen and around the wine storage. Hearing footsteps approach, he hid in the shadows as a big man walked in carrying a case of beer. He watched as the man opened the cooler and started putting in the bottles. Dominic quietly snuck up on the man, taking the knife and unsheathing it along the way. He could smell the man’s sweat from working in the heat. Disgust built inside Dominic from being that close to filth. Three feet behind him, Dominic stood, ready to strike. He took his left hand and stepped closer, then, covered the man’s mouth with his hand. As he pulled him tight to his body, the man started to resist, striking his elbows into Dominic’s ribs. Kneeing his victim’s right leg, hitting the common peroneal nerve with his right knee, the man buckled. Dominic’s right hand came up to the guy’s throat with the knife. In one fluid motion the knife penetrated his skin, as Dominic slit his throat from left to right. He lowered the body to the ground, blood spilling out from the neck. He patted the man down, looking for a weapon. Finding a colt .45 stored at the small of his back, he grabbed it. Putting the man’s shirt back in place, he noticed the lightning bolt on his arms.
“Fools, always trying to play God.”
He grabbed his bag and headed out onto the main floor. Looking up the stairwell, he decided to start there. Taking two steps at a time, he climbed in silence. His two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle swiftly gliding through the air. Looking over the lip of the stairs, he saw the man behind the bar. The same man Zayn brought to the building. Waiting for him to turn his back, he moved to the bar and hopped over the counter. Pulling out the Colt .45, he pointed it at the man’s head and pulled back the hammer. The sound echoing in the silence
“Do as I say or you die. Turn around slowly.”
Kevin’s body stiffened before he started to turn, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation. “What do you want?”
Dominic took his right hand, gun in his grip, and struck Kevin across the face. “Did I say speak? Now move to a chair. NOW!”
Kevin started to back up out of the bar area till he found a chair at the nearest table and looked up at the dark man. Dominic dropped the bag on the floor next to Kevin’s feet. “Open the bag and get out the tape.”
Kevin moved his head down to stare at the bag then back up to the man. Hesitantly, he reached down, opening the bag. He fumbled around until he found the roll of duct tape. The sight of the other items made him sick to his stomach. Setting the duct tape on his lap, he looked back up at Dominic.
“Wrap your legs and one arm to the chair with the tape.” Dominic instructed. Kevin did as he was told, taking his time trying to think of a plan. While Kevin was busy taping himself to the chair, Dominic reached for the bag and pulled out the rope, knives, and gag. Dominic looked back to Kevin. Seeing his body semi-secured, he grabbed the rope and tied down Kevin’s free arm then wrapped the rope around his body and chair, securing him in place.
“What is your name, and how do you know the King?” Dominic asked as he moved back to the bar where he spread out his knife collection.
The clinking of them sent chills down Kevin’s spine. With his heart racing, panic set in. “My name is Kevin, and the King’s okht is a customer of my bar. That’s it.”
Dominic picked up a knife and a sharpener. He ran the knife over the sharpener as he enjoyed the sound that the metal on metal was creating. He stalked toward Kevin with a menacing look in his eyes. “You know how I know that you are lying to me?” Dominic brought the knife up to Kevin’s face, running it over the sharpener before pointing it at his nose. “I have video footage of you and the King in the building where the Princess was being tortured. Now, what would the King be doing with a little bar owner if you were not someone important?” The knife sliced across Kevin’s left cheek as Dominic laughed.
“Let’s try this again, Kevin. How do you know the King? And remember, I’m the one with the knife.”
Kevin stared at the end of the knife, beads of sweat running down his forehead. Kevin shifted his eyes to the stairwell, praying for Zeus to come up. Dominic looked over his shoulder then back to Kevin. “Looking for your friend? Well, he is dead on the floor in your storage room. It’s just you and me. Now talk!” Pressing the knife to his cheek, causing blood to drip onto the knife, Dominic gave a mad grin.
“Nikole and I have exchanged blood. The King was hoping I could track her, but since it had been too long I was useless.” Kevin lowered his head in shame. He had just betrayed his king and his friend and his lover.
“Now, are you sure that’s all? You’re not keeping something else from me?”
Kevin shook his head no. He felt sick to his stomach. “Good.” Kevin looked up at him, trying to figure out what he is going to do with him. “Will you let me go? I gave you what you want.”
Annoyed with the situation, Dominic laughed at Kevin and lowered his head to Kevin’s eye level. “You people really are fools. No, I’m not going to let you live.” Kevin made a noise of protest when he felt the blade on the right side of his neck, being pulled across. His mind flashed to Nikole, her taste, her smell, and her touch. “I’m so sorry Nikole.” He felt his death coming; he didn’t get to die a hero, a lover, an abb. He died alone, as a coward, his greatest fear. Kevin’s head fell forward, the blood pouring from his throat.
Dominic searched Kevin’s pockets and found his cell phone. Opening it and checking out the call history, he saw Zayn’s name and sent a text message to the King.
“Kevin’s dead. You’re next.”